Page 58 of Playing Dirty
"Right, we're here." He stops at what looks like a back-alley entrance to a pub. "Remember what I told you about lock-ins?"
"I do." I nod, quickly ransacking my memory for the details. "You said that sometimes when you're close with the owner of apub, they clear out the patrons so the inner circle can stay. Usually for funerals or weddings, though it can happen for other reasons too. But they lock the doors since it's technically against the law, hence the name. Blinds drawn. Sometimes music."
"Oh, Ace." He looks like he's fighting a laugh, his expression bordering on affectionate pity. "You really were a straight-A student, weren't you?"
"Shut up," I say, narrowing my eyes. "And yes, I was. I might not have had a massive social circle, but the teachers absolutely adored me."
"Well,Ilike you too. I think the slightly neurotic overachiever thing is very sexy, for the record."
"Oh?" I glance up at him, fighting a smile, both of us well aware we've been dancing dangerously close to saying screw it all night. "Even the color-coded planner?"
He leans in. "Especiallythe planner. Something about all that control."
"Well." I arch a brow, my pulse skipping. "Wait until you see what I can do with a spreadsheet."
He laughs. "Now you're just tormenting me."
God help me. I'm about ten seconds away from abandoning every single rule I've ever made.
"Okay, we really need to maintain those boundaries," I say, my voice sounding a touch breathless. "Any discussion of potential dating waits until we're off the clock. Preferably when there isn't a press corps roaming Dublin, ready to vilify you for gallivanting around with your apparent puck bunny right after blowing up the season."
"I'm remarkably good at being discreet, if that helps my case," he says.
"Not a chance. And you'd best behave yourself, Mr. O'Rourke, or I might have to resort to violence." I jab a finger toward his chest, attempting a stern expression. "Don't forget,I've had professional training with a baseball bat now. I'm a formidable opponent."
"Aye, message received." He laughs, reaching for the door. "Well, back to the agenda. It's the pub owner's birthday and he's a pal, so he let me know they're doing a lock-in tonight. You ready to experience your first one, Ace?"
I swallow hard against the frantic flutter in my chest and nod. He swings the door open, smiling down at me as he ushers me into the dark warmth inside.
The room is small and low-ceilinged, mostly dark wood and a long copper-topped bar polished to a shine by what looks like a century of elbows. There are maybe twenty people packed in close, the air thick with laughter and the rich, yeasty smell of stout.
A fiddle is going somewhere in the back, paired with a flat little drum a man plays with a two-headed stick, though by the look of him, he started drinking several hours ago. The second we step inside, everyone looks up.
"Ya bleedin' eejit, what are you doing here!"
"There he is!"
“What's the craic?”
Voices come from every direction at once. A red-faced man at the bar lifts his pint in salute. Someone shouts something sympathetic about the suspension, and Cillian nods his thanks, his hand steady on my lower back.
He steers me through the tight-knit crowd, greeting everyone as we go. Childhood friends, local regulars, and the owner, Joe, who looks to be about Cillian's age.
It's like the return of the prodigal son.
A man with light brown hair and boisterous energy grabs Cillian by the shoulders, shaking him affectionately. "I thought you said you weren't coming!"
"Plans changed, Rob." Cillian laughs, clapping him on the arm. "Good to see you,auld segotia."
"Same to you. And who's this, then?" Rob's eyes land on me, his whole face lifting with curiosity. "You didn't tell me you were bringing anyone."
"Rob, this is Margot. We're working together on the Solstice Estates project." Cillian glances down at me and I feel the heat creep into my cheeks. "Margot, meet Rob. We went to school together and have been pals ever since."
Rob sticks out a hand, his look friendly and welcoming. "Nice to meet you, Margot."
"You too," I say, returning his smile.
"American?"
